


How Do You Solve A Problem Like A Unwanted Golden Hand?

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Banks and Banking, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Jaime's Golden Hand should be a seperate character here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 04:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12247092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: When she first met Jaime Lannister, while interviewing at the Casterly Bank for a role in the marketing division after finishing her MBA, he was using his ostentatiously gilded prosthetic hand as a paperweight, a talking point, a unique piece of art.





	How Do You Solve A Problem Like A Unwanted Golden Hand?

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully on the humorous side, this only came about because of the activity today on the JB board was 101 Uses for Jaime's golden hand. I'm not sure I've hit the right points but wanted to give it a go anyway.
> 
> Unbetaed (as I only finished it this morning!), I apologise for any mistakes or misspellings. Thank you to RoseHeart for cheerleading me through this one. I've needed it!
> 
> Anything you recognise doesn't belong to me.

When she first met Jaime Lannister, while interviewing at the Casterly Bank for a role in the marketing division after finishing her MBA, he was using his ostentatiously gilded prosthetic hand as a paperweight, a talking point, a unique piece of art. She'd tried not to stare while he ran through a long list of increasingly gruelling questions, wanting to know everything from the reasoning behind her choice of colleges to how she would promote their newest savings account to, strangely, the exact shade of blue she was wearing, but the light kept catching the ornate filigree decoration and her attention wavered.

The appendage had been an unwanted gift from his father after a motorbike accident left him crippled some years ago, Jaime had told her without a hint of self consciousness when her eyes flickered across the table one too many times, and it was as dramatic as it was useless. Before she had researched all the best companies to work for in the financial capital, and discovered the Casterly Bank paid, promoted and prized their employees better than any of their competitors, Brienne might have thought there was an apt metaphor hiding in there somewhere.

As isolated as her childhood had been, rumours about the Lannister family and their unconventional business practices had reached the shores of Tarth long before she started high school. By the time Brienne was in college picking her major, The Targaryen Takedown had dominated the national news cycle for months and eventually became the major case study in her senior seminar class. But the Jaime staring up at her from the pages of a hastily printed text book wasn't half as handsome as he was sitting across from her now, his wit just as sharp and cutting as she'd been warned though with the occasional, surprising, touch of flirtatious charm. His handshake was firmly meant to throw her off guard, while his eyes were a shade of emerald green that belonged in a paint catalogue not on a man. She tried not to think how uncomfortably homely she must have looked in comparison, her wool suit a thrift store find so old she'd forgotten which interview it had been originally bought for, her face out of place when surrounded by such luxury and beauty.

Brienne didn't know who was more surprised when, after the ninety minute grilling came to a end she blurted out a comment about his impressive collection of 'The Lion and The Unicorn' movie memorabilia that started another, more combative chat about their mutual love of film noir, he offered her the job on the spot.

She was in no place to turn down such an opportunity but that didn't stop her needing Jaime to reassure her, twice, that she was the last candidate of the day and definitely the best of those handpicked by his father. She should have been impressed, proud of her hard work and business acumen, but all it did was make Brienne more unsure about taking the next, willing, step into the lions den.

As it was, her job involved little day to day contact with any of the Lannisters. In fact, she didn't see Jaime again until the monthly staff meeting, nearly six weeks after she'd initially been awed by the committee room's foreboding black and gold interior. He'd saved her entire team seats at the table, bouncing between serious businessman, despite his stubble covered jaw, novelty socks and lack of tie, Brienne coming to find the bobbing of his Adam's apple oddly compelling, and passing notes asking why she'd stopped rowing after college and if she'd seen the most recent Arthur Dayne film. That afternoon his hand was being used as a makeshift doorstop, and if the look on Tywin Lannister's face was anything to go by, Jaime's intended message had been successfully received.

The next month the golden hand stood in for a book end, the one after holding Tyrion Lannister's name badge when he sent his apologies in advance, the one after that it came wrapped in tinsel and Winterfest lights, standing in for the tiny table tree that usually acted as a centrepiece throughout the holiday month.

At their New Year's Eve party, the hand was left in charge of an equally gilded punch ladle, and though Brienne would have preferred to spend the night bundled up in her cosiest pyjamas watching Varys countdown to dropping the ball at Dragonpit, even she couldn't hold back a smile. Her team leader insisted, her colleagues cajoled, her father encouraged her to attend the biggest event in the company's social calendar and she ended the night making the biggest mistake of her career by making out with Jaime Lannister under a winter blooming heart tree.

They might have been working on a special project together for the last few weeks that had asked for early mornings and late nights, spending the hours locked in constant disagreements about how best to market options for customers wanting to donate a percentage to one of the bank's chosen charities, tax breaks and good publicity a given, but it was still no reason to allow champagne lowered inhibitions lead to the greatest romantic encounter of her life. The tension caused by working in such close proximity would have had to break at some point, she knew, but it was supposed to come in the form of mediation or the project being scraped not his tongue in her month and her roaming hands making sure he felt just as good as he looked.

Brienne didn't think she liked him most of the time, he had no clue how the real world worked, being reliant on changeable public transport timetables was as if she was speaking a different language, mixed up compliments and insults on a near daily basis, surely he must have chosen the wrong word when he called her eyes 'astonishing', and added a disgusting combination of creamers and syrups to the coffee she brought every morning. Plus he had a list of nicknames for her that he ran through, and expanded on, each day.

Though it wasn't as if he completely lacked good qualities, his arrogance didn't come from empty business bravado, almost delighting in being brutally honest with her, but he also found time to listen to and trust in her ideas. Jaime had no issue treating his assistants with the respect they deserved, ordering more than enough dinner on the nights he and Brienne stayed behind to feed either or both of the very capable pair.

Not that she spent a vast amount of time the morning after that party coming up with a pros and cons list about her bosses boss.

She had hoped he'd forgotten the whole incident, too drunk or too embarrassed over his choices, by the time they all returned after the holidays but the sight of familiar golden glint in an unfamiliar place burst that bubble almost as soon as she set foot in the building. There was no reason why Jaime would have put it in her in tray if he didn't want to talk.

"I have to go upstairs," she grumbled to the only other member of her team within earshot. "And take Mr Lannister back his hand. Someone must have left in the...corridor after the party."

"I don't know why we don't melt that thing down and turn it into something useful. I'm sure it would make a lot of very nice jewellery."

Brienne smiled politely on her way out of the room, finding herself counting the steps from her desk to his door as she tried to slow her heartbeat back down to an acceptable level, her mind full of phrases she would need to include in any resignation letter. With a growing sense of trepidation, words of regret and thanks muddling together in her head, she knocked carefully on the polished mahogany surface and waited to be called in.

"Have a seat, Blue." Jaime forgo any kind of welcome to point to the empty chair in front of him, a paper cup of coffee waiting for her, still hot enough to burn the roof of her mouth as she took a tentative sip.

"I'm going to be forty this year," he casually volunteered, throwing her immediately onto the back foot. Their discussions didn't normally start at such a personal level, despite all the time they'd spent in the office allowing them opportunities to digest unexpected sharing of bitterly misunderstood secrets. "Did you know that?"

She shook her head, wondering if he was about to explain their tipsy tryst as the first stage of a midlife crisis. It would be the first time she'd heard that particular brush off but at least it would be better than finding out her virginity had been the subject of a bet at her rowing club. "Is that why you've become so interested in doing the right thing all of sudden? Telling me the truth about the Targaryens, firing Connington and Royce, standing up to your father..."

"Yes," he admitted with a wry smile. "And no. Do I really have to say 'I trust you' again?"

She felt her forehead creasing. This wasn't the way she expected this conversation to go. "Is everything okay, Jaime?"

"That would depend on your definition of 'okay'," he leaned forward ever so slightly, his green eyes never leaving her face. "A very old, very crotchety relative has apparently left me a large sum of money in their will and I've asked for permission to take a sabbatical from my normal duties at least until the summer. Maybe longer."

"I'm not sure what you going on some over priced round the world cruise has to do-"

"On my own?" he scoffed. "What would be the point of going to all those places without yo...someone to enjoy it with?"

"Peace and quiet are often underrated."

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, his smile momentarily bright, like a flash of lightning. "I'm not sure that piece of wisdom is the best thing to be telling a new business owner."

"Y-you're leaving Casterly," she stuttered in shock after a beat of silence allowed the implication to settle. "When did you...have you...was it because of-"

"It's because it's the first time I've ever had money that didn't come with strings attached," Jaime explained carefully. "I thought it might be nice to see what I could do with it out there in the real world."

Brienne attempted to swallow down most of her half formed questions, focusing on getting her words in the right order and not the fact that some of her parrying must have made an impression, despite all evidence to the contrary. "When did you tell your father?"

"Yesterday," he replied. "I was planning on working until the end of the month, get everything in order for my replacement, but you can guess how Tywin reacted."

She pulled a face. "Not well."

Jaime nodded. "That would be the understatement of the year. And I wish I didn't have to say this but..." He trailed off ominously, rising to his feet to make her realise that he wasn't in one of his perfectly tailored suits, comfortably worn denim wrapped snugly around his thighs instead, his hand extending professionally across the desk. "It's been an honour working with you, Brienne."

"T-thank you for taking a chance on me," she awkwardly reached out to clasp and shake, not able to say what she really wanted to when his skin felt so warm pressed against hers. "I'm sorry we couldn't see our account ideas become a reality."

"Me, too," he took a deep breath, his usual cocky, self assured facade disappearing before her eyes. "So, there's a film festival this weekend at The Mandarin and I wondered if you maybe wanted to go. With me. Now that we aren't going to be working together. It's mainly noir and I thought we-"

"Okay."

"Okay," he replied, matching her slowly spreading smile as he finally released her hand. "I'll pick you up at six then. If I asked nicely would you maybe wear that blue shirt you had on when we met with the Iron Bank?"

"It...It would depend on how n-nicely."

"Why do you think I call you 'Blue', Blue? It's a good colour on you. It makes your eyes even more gorgeous than normal."

Brienne had to stop herself from blushing all the way back to her desk.

It didn't take long at all before a Saturday night movie date became a regular thing. Their schedules generally clashed during the week, even if Jaime insisted on changing gyms so he got to see her more and more often, joking that he could leave the hand outside the sauna spa door if they wanted to make out after working out without being disturbed. He knew she would never agree to it, especially since they'd agreed to take things slow despite how often they ended up entangled on his sofa, but Jaime still seemed to enjoy making her blush and splutter at every turn. Words and touches were enough, however, on the occasions he really wanted to go the extra mile, the golden hand wasn't far behind.

He filled it with lilies and irises for their first Valentine's Day together, the blues and purples standing out against the dark counter tops of her kitchen, the only flowers Brienne had ever received that didn't make her want to destroy something. She asked him to stay with her after dinner, falling into bed together on a wave of desire and longing, deciding then and there that, if it could be avoided, she never wanted to sleep without him close again. Jaime seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he handed over a key to his plush, barely lived in, penthouse apartment not long after they shared breakfast in bed for the first time.

She might have lived in a shoebox compared to where the bank liked to house the Lannisters but Jaime preferred spending time at hers, slowly filling the drawers and shelves and rails she cleared for him, making inappropriately shaped Popsicle moulds from the fingers of his hand or hanging cat toys from it to entertain her new kitten. On her birthday he tried to surprise her, dressing down to his name day suit and lying in wait for her return, hiding the hard curve of his cock behind the hand when she came home with his brother in tow.

By the time Jaime officially moved in a few months later, having spent so many nights in one another's beds that it made more sense to live under the same roof rather than keep separate apartments, he seemed to retire the hand from most of its mischievous duties, leaving it on her dresser to hold his watch each night. It stood out like a Mona Lisa at a garage sale, but at least she wasn't finding it offering her a towel, having been stuck to the bathroom wall or acting as a temporary replacement for the kitchen sink plug. She loved Jaime but there was only a finite amount of uses for a immobile prosthetic hand that didn't involve a piratical Halloween costume.

She didn't think about it again properly for a long time, fading from her attention like the stain on the living room carpet where her brother spilled a glass of red wine or the spot on the kitchen wall where an old friend had accidentally brushed her lacquered nails against drying paint, until, one day, something significant caught her eye.

"I don't know how but I dropped my phone down the back of the dresser this morning and when I moved everything back this fell off," she solemnly announced to Jaime over breakfast that morning, presenting him with the three fingered golden hand. "I'm really sorry. I've looked everywhere and I can't find the missing bit. It's just gone."

"Shit." Jaime's eyes went wide, the spoon dropping from his hand as he started to reach into the pocket of his suit jacket, nerves rather than flirtation causing him to bite into his lower lip. "About that."

"I was going to book a table, do this properly, make it something to tell our children," he continued, producing a midnight blue box that sent her heart jumping into her throat. "But I guess melting down a golden finger to make you a ring will have to suffice."

"You did what?" she asked, her voice quivering just above a whisper. It was too soon, surely, for him to want to make a forever and always commitment. With her. Forever.

"I thought I might have finally found a good use for it," he murmured back, pushing the velvet box towards her. "Who'd have thought that something so unwanted could be turned into something special for the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. If she'll have me."

Brienne had never said 'yes' to anything as quickly in her life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
